


Parallel

by Raiyn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Character Study, Coping, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/referenced illness, Loss, M/M, POV Miya Atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raiyn/pseuds/Raiyn
Summary: All Atsumu can hear now are the soft echoes of their last goodbye, the memory fading from his grasp, floating away like a leaf in the wind.Snapshots of grief and loss.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 16
Kudos: 40
Collections: Haikyuu Angst Week 2020





	Parallel

Atsumu can only watch numbly as the casket is lowered six feet into the ground. He’s dressed in his best suit, but he feels stone cold and empty inside. 

When the last shovel of dirt is packed in and the last speech is finished, the gathered crowd is left to mingle in their shared loss. Atsumu wanders lifelessly through his friends and family, barely registering the soft whispers of condolences around him, his eyes still searching by habit for orange hair. His brother stares down at the grave, a haunting reflection of himself. Atsumu walks straight past him. He can’t bear to see his grief so starkly through his twin’s eyes. 

It is especially cruel that it is a beautiful morning. The grass at the gravesite still sparkles with dew, and the air is disarmingly crisp. Atsumu looks to the sky as the sun peeks over the horizon. Faced with a new beginning he never wanted, he crumples to the ground, and he screams, but no one hears.

All Atsumu can hear now are the soft echoes of their last goodbye, the memory fading from his grasp, floating away like a leaf in the wind. All he can smell now is the hospital he’d spent the past months in. All he can see now is orange. The color of the sunrise before him, the color of Shouyou’s hair. But when he reaches out to touch, to caress, like so many times before, he can no longer feel.

...

Atsumu sits in their favorite cafe with Shouyou across from him, just like old times. The busy waitress waves off another customer and stops by their table once more, bending slightly to place a gentle hand on Shouyou’s shoulder, offering more napkins, some sugar, perhaps? Shouyou just shakes his head, and the waitress pats his hand. _Stay as long as you need_ , she says, before hurrying off again.

Shouyou’s coffee remains untouched as they sit in silence. His eyes have been swollen and red for weeks. Atsumu reaches across the table for Shouyou’s hand, but it slips out of his grasp to swipe away tears instead.

“Why?” Shouyou whispers, head bowed, voice trembling. “Why did it have to be us?” 

Atsumu can’t answer. He can only sit in silence, a reflection of Shouyou’s pain.

...

Atsumu stares into the empty gym long after practice is over, the fluorescent lights clicking off around him. He doesn’t know why he still comes. Every squeak of a shoe and every thump of a ball hitting the court stabs through his heart. Every toss, every spike is a painful reminder of what they could have had, what they _did_ have not so long ago. _Just one more time_ , he pleads into the heavens. But he hangs his head, because he’s tried bargaining with God already.

How many times had they performed their quick attack together since that first successful one so many years ago? Atsumu flexes his hand; the sting of the ball still lingers in his fingertips. In the darkness, he tries to count, punishing himself with each recitation of their games, their practices. His memory isn’t good enough; he can’t gather the details in enough depth to count each one in between. But he remembers the first, and he remembers the last.

The headlines that day read “National volleyball team member collapses during exhibition match.” He couldn’t get up. He was carried like a ragdoll into a waiting stretcher and sped away in an ambulance. That first hospital visit turned into several. Then routine.

Those few months passed in a blur. Endless needles and tests. Nausea and medication. Frustration. Fear. Tears.

But they were together. They could get through this. 

They held on to hope far longer than was wise. They worked through every option the doctor listed, but in the end, they were left with only one — say goodbye.

...

Atsumu joins Shouyou for a light jog through the park, just like they used to. Shouyou seems determined to maintain a sense of normality, and they wind up the usual trail, until the crowds of families are far in the distance. When they arrive at the flower garden with the glass conservatory, Shouyou stops abruptly. He bends over, using his hands to grip his trembling knees. He pants heavily as he gazes up at the gleaming building, and then his face hardens. Slowly, shakily, he walks forward.

He parts the vines and flowers adorning the entryway, picking up speed as he steps through. His footsteps echo through the chamber, but Atsumu doesn’t need the sound to know where he’s headed.

Atsumu finds Shouyou under the maple tree in the conservatory’s center courtyard. He’s crouched with his back against the tree, staring up at the bare branches. He shivers against the bark, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck.

With trembling arms, Shouyou reaches upwards, and Atsumu sprints towards him, wanting to stop him, or help him, but knowing he cannot. A small cry escapes from Shouyou when his fingers fall short, and then his expression grows resolute. Atsumu can only watch in awe as Shouyou flies once more, catching the branch and pulling himself upwards, his legs kicking at the empty air. 

Huddling into the crook of the tree, Shouyou rubs his hands together for warmth. His chest is heaving from the climb, and his breath swirls in the winter air. The wind catches Shouyou’s hair and ruffles it the way Atsumu so badly wanted to. Instead, he leans against the trunk and gazes up at Shouyou like he did in the past, when the leaves were green, and yellow, and red.

“I guess I don’t need your help.” Shouyou tells the grey sky bitterly.

...

He visits in dreams sometimes.

With borrowed time, they travel the world they never got the chance to explore together. Shouyou brings him to Brazil that way, like he’d always promised. They lie on the beaches, and Atsumu tries to imagine the warmth of the sand, the salty breeze of the ocean, and the feeling of Shouyou’s hand in his again.

They settle into the home that would have been theirs, small and cozy with a net set up in the backyard. They live out the life that was ripped away from them. They cook together. They snuggle on the couch. The visions are always hazy, not quite right, tainted by the cruel reality that lurks in the memories. Nevertheless, Atsumu lets himself forget.

They hold each other right before the night is over, the borrowed time to be repaid in heartache when the morning comes. Atsumu reassures Shouyou that he is okay. That he loves him still. That he always would.

...

Somehow, the years pass. After a hard-fought match, Japan takes gold in the Paris Olympics. Atsumu stands on the podium with his teammates, hears the roar of the crowd, watches as everyone lifts their medals in the air. He swells with pride at the national anthem.

It feels bittersweet, still. Each cheer is tinged with what could have been, what they could have accomplished together, had life not intervened. Every match is a reminder of the first time he saw Shouyou fly. 

As the team dog piles into a hug, Atsumu stands behind, stray tears dropping for the one he wanted to hug the most but no longer could. But the tears no longer overwhelm him, the grief no longer drowns him. He clenches his fist and pumps it in the air, a celebration, a tribute, to their love for each other and for volleyball.

...

Atsumu stops by the grave every anniversary. He’s always touched by how well-kept it is. The grass atop remains soft and trimmed, and he’ll lie down near the stone for hours, looking up at the blue sky, admiring the flowers that have been left behind.

He doesn’t often see others at the grave these days, except for one.

He sits up and smiles softly as he hears the familiar footsteps. A shock of orange hair comes into view and kneels down in front of the stone, arranging fresh flowers before slowly tracing the stone’s words with his fingers.

_  
In memory of_

_Miya Atsumu_

_loving husband, brother, son, and setter  
_

  


“I miss you, ‘Tsumu. I love you,” he whispers, like he always does.

“I love you too, Shouyou,” Atsumu replies, like he always does, but Shouyou never hears.

  


* * *

  


“Shouyou?”

“Atsumu,” he breathes, voice faint and full of wonder, and Atsumu smiles. 

“You can hear me now.”

“Yes,” comes the shaky answer. “I can.”

“I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

“I — I’ve missed you so much, ‘Tsumu.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Shouyou. So, so much.”

“We won gold in Paris.”

Atsumu chuckles. “I know. You played beautifully. You always have.”

“Is this the end, ‘Tsumu? Will it hurt?”

“It’ll be okay, Shouyou. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay. I trust you.”

“Can you hold my hand, Shouyou? I’ll help you over.”

Shouyou reaches toward him with trembling fingers, and Atsumu can feel again.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is quite a different flavor of fic from what I normally write, but it was a very cathartic experience to put these feelings into words.
> 
> I want to give an enormous thank you to [Feyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feyre) for beta reading this fic. Her feedback has been instrumental in the writing of this fic and for helping me improve my writing in general, and I honestly don't have the proper words to capture the extent of my gratitude. Not to mention, she willingly indulges me in late-evening ramblings about how I'm thinking about re-phrasing this one scene _yet again_ , and she should be given lots of love and cookies. 💜
> 
> If you need a bit of fluff after reading this fic, I have written several other AtsuHinas that are pure fluff and zero angst. :)
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts! Any kudos/comments are always massively appreciated. 
> 
> Much love as always,  
> Raiyn
> 
> **Quick Links:**   
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